


In the State Of

by mazily



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-20
Updated: 2006-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-08 09:29:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mazily/pseuds/mazily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"-Denmark," Fraser says. "The quote is, 'Something is rotten in the state of Denmark,' Ray. <i>Hamlet</i>, Act I, Scene iv. Marcellus is, in essence, stating that-"</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the State Of

**Author's Note:**

> Post-COTW, plot-free for your convenience.

Something's queer in the state of-

**1\. Florida.**

It's Ray's mother who tells him, says, "I heard from Stella the other day." The rest of the conversation is mostly, "blah blah, divorce, blah blah, Miami, blah blah blah, divorce again." Ray just agrees and disagrees and says things like, "Thanks" and also, "Nah, Fraser's making sure I eat enough" and "The sun, ha, what's that?". Fraser's working (Fraser's always working, seems like, now that Ray's... not working, unemployable, a bum, a loser, a deadbeat); Dief's babysitting because Fraser doesn't quite trust Ray not to run out into the snow and get himself frozen into one of those abnormal snowmen, and also because Ray gets lonely, sometimes, all alone in the middle of the great white north.

 

**2\. Illinois.**

His eyes are crusty and pulsing under the lids, and his skin is too tight for his bones. The sun is too bright; it's like he's a fucking vampire, about to go _poof!_ like on TV and catch fire and turn to dust. It's like he's already dead, only no one bothered to tell his head, so it just keeps pounding and pounding and fucking pounding like a rhumba. Or Black Sabbath. When his brain starts actually working again, he'll figure it out. Ray's been back in Chicago two weeks, three days, and something like fourteen hours already, and it still doesn't feel like home anymore. Maybe when he's back to work (Monday, which is tomorrow, which is maybe too soon or not soon enough, Ray's not sure). He's not exactly betting on anywhere feeling like home these days, especially not the station, now that the Mountie's up north chasing wood thieves and poachers and not missing Ray one bit.

(At the airport, the first of too many airports, Fraser'd held his hat in his hands, twisting and turning and twisting again, and said, "It has been an honor-" He said other stuff, too, but, really, what the fuck was that supposed to mean? Luckily, they serve alcohol on airplanes, and everyone knows that alcohol, while it doesn't make things better, at least makes them suck a lot less for a little while.)

 

**3\. The Northern Areas.**

"-Denmark," Fraser says. "The quote is, 'Something is rotten in the state of Denmark,' Ray. _Hamlet_ , Act I, Scene iv. Marcellus is, in essence, stating that-"

"Shut up, Fraser," Ray says. "Just, you're completely missing. That's. Look, I called for a reason, okay, and I want you to just shut up and listen while I tell you this and then you can go on about Shakespeare or Dickens or whoeverthefuck you want to quote to get your point across, okay. Hell, you can even tell one of your caribou stories, just." Ray lights a smoke. No one around to stop him, to look all disapproving and holier than you know who, which is actually a relief, if you want to know the truth. "So, the thing is. The thing is, okay, I'm pretty fucking mad at you right now, right. Because of how you just-"

-and the thing is, maybe Fraser's not really listening, maybe he's just holding the phone to his ear and waiting until the Charlie Brown "wah wah" sounds fade away. Maybe he's looking at Dief, right, mouthing, "those crazy Yanks" because Dief can lip read, if you ask Fraser, who is crazy, but anyways, not the point, because maybe Fraser is listening, so-

"-and that's all I got to say."

Fraser clears his throat, like he's maybe nervous or something, and says, "I am. That is to say, I didn't mean it like. Ray, I apologize if I ever led you to believe-"

-and then Ray stops listening, waits for the "wah wah" sounds to fade, and says, "Okay, well, apology accepted and no hard feelings and I gotta go now, Frase, my pizza's here"-- _and, yes, Ray knows that Fraser knows that there's no pizza, because Fraser, the freak, would be able to hear the buzzer all the way from the goddamned Northern Areas_ \-- "but you'd better not stop calling me because of this. Because that, my friend, that would not be buddies." There's no dial tone when Fraser hangs up, which always strikes Ray as weird, because in the movies there's always that comforting buzz to let you know your call is over, doneski, like maybe your life.

 

**4\. Florida.**

Ray Vecchio, the real one, walks into the station like he fucking owns it, which only makes Ray (Kowalski, the real one) want to punch him right in his big, stupid nose. Vecchio walks right into Welsh's office like he's king of the fucking world, and Ray writes, "fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck" all across his notepad. Then he writes it backwards, and upside down, and regular, and backwards again. He decides to go to lunch, never mind that it's only 10:03 and no way in hell is he hungry.

(Only, and ain't it always the way, it's when he's up and grabbing his jacket and checking for his phone that Welsh says, _"Kowalski, in here, now!"_ and there goes Ray's plans, poof, up in smoke, sayonara and kerblooey and ker-pow. He can practically see the giant cartoon "ka-blam!" over his head. He puts the jacket on his desk, and he's in the Lieu's office faster than you can say, "for reasons that don't need explaining at this juncture."

Only, for reasons that Ray thinks do, in fact, need explaining at this juncture, and reasons Welsh says are his own business and no one else's, Ray and Vecchio are now paired up. _"Temporarily,"_ Welsh insists, _"Because we are a) short-staffed and b) this is a huge case and c), and this is key, so pay careful attention, because I said so, and I am your boss."_ Which leads to Ray asking when the hell Vecchio got back and reinstated and _"what the hell'd you do to Stella, asshole?_ " and Vecchio saying, _"what,_ Stanley, _did Benny finally get sick of your skinny Polack-"_ and punching and black eyes and Welsh kicking them both out and threatening them with bodily harm if they _"ever, ever, pull a stunt like that in my squad room again."_ )

"So," Ray says.

They get to work. The sooner this thing is solved, the sooner Ray can forget Vecchio ever really existed (except for as a cover).

 

**5\. Illinois.**

\--Vecchio is rough, all pushpullpush and, _"fuck, Stanley, this is so fucking stupid"_ , but that's fine, that's good, that's greatness even, and the wall's, fuck, the wall's hard and his head hurts, but that's okay, that's fine, that's, _"oh, fuck, Vecch-, yeah, right"_ \--

 

**6\. Illinois.**

Ray wakes up: alone, sore, hungover, late. There's one of those plastic Cubs cups Fraser hated on his nightstand, and a new bottle of Tylenol (it's still shrink-wrapped, for one thing, and the red bits are still red, which is how Ray knows it's not his old bottle of Tylenol, which is sort of pinkish with the label peeling off), and a note Ray can't read without his glasses but which probably says something along the lines of, "you tell anyone about this, ever, and I whack your ass like you know I can."

(It doesn't. Later, after he washes the stink off his body and his eyes start working again, he reads it and it says, "Stanley, Get to work already you lazy bum. -Ray." Ray's not sure which is worse. Or better. He's really not sure of much, these days, except there's a manhunt on and he's a fucking good cop and they're going to solve this, and then him and Vecchio won't have to be partners anymore.)

He goes to work. He's out of M&Ms, and his coffee tastes like motor oil and bark tea and the water in Lake Michigan.

"So, Stanley," Vecchio says-- _"don't call me," Ray says_ \-- "Busy night? Because, and correct me if I'm wrong here, I thought we were supposed to meet at eight this morning, and it's practically lunchtime." He makes a big show of looking at his watch, shaking it, looking again, and Ray is going to kick him in the head if he doesn't cut that shit out. "C'mon," Vecchio says, "We've got a new lead. Pitter patter, isn't that your cute little catchphrase?"

Ray kicks his desk, which hurts more than you'd think, and his papers all fall to the floor. "Fuck," he says. Vecchio's already across the squad room, the bastard doesn't even look back, and Ray hurries to get everything back on his desk and it's a mess (but there are those, Ray not among them, who would say his desk has always been a mess, but it's just that they don't understand his unique organizational style), and then he's running out the door, too.

 

**7\. Florida, Canada, it's all the fucking same.**

"We are like the fucking Royal Canadian fucking Mounties, we always get our man," Ray says. He is making a toast. Vecchio's on the stool next to his, nursing an Old Style and nodding like maybe Ray's actually right about this, for once, like maybe Vecchio doesn't think he's a moron after all. Of course, they're both well on their way to drunkland, to margaritaville, so what the hell does Ray know?

"To Benny," Vecchio says. Ray drinks.


End file.
